


Lupus

by Ilovehighhats



Series: Constellations [5]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag, Shameless Smut, Smut, did i say smut?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 11:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilovehighhats/pseuds/Ilovehighhats
Summary: In which the sheep sheds her skin in favour of wolf's pelt, and it turns out the wolf doesn't mind.(It's not about the disease, people.)





	Lupus

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something completely different. We interrupted our scheduled programme to bring you sweet relief of pointless smut.
> 
> The interlude is sponsored by reader's attention toward the subject, most notably ff.net's Adarya, who has been lobbying for "November" themed chapters since I suggested whipping up some extras. :)
> 
> For your reading pleasure, the “November” collection, instalment number two. Set in chapter 13 of “The Scientist”, guess where exactly.
> 
> R&R!
> 
>  
> 
>  

 

“He wants you.”

James stood at the precipice of Helena's room, leaning on the doorframe. 

She hummed and never stopped writing. 

“Did he say right now?”

“Technically, no.”

“I'd like to refresh myself before I go, if that's okay.”

“Get to it then.”

A twist in her chair brought their eyes together; Helena's sharp gaze under a frown versus his steady look of indifference.

Right. He didn't care. Not about her, not about her work, not about her comfort. 

Helena cleaned her tools, keeping the guard in her peripheral, then set to the armoire for the clothes. There weren't many to choose from. She was down to the last pair of lacy underwear, one pair of ankle short socks, two tank tops and leggings she never wore other than as additional insulation under her pants. 

“Do you know when I'll get my things from the laundering?”

“Maybe in the evening.”

“How does it work around here? Who takes care of it?” She inquired, opening every cupboard just to make sure she didn't omit a garment. 

James never replied. She didn't think he would. 

At the very bottom was her last resort kind of outfit. A set she packed originally in dim hope of getting a date, aware the possibility of meeting someone while out at the cottage in the woods was more than slim. But she prepared anyway, taking with only the good undies, nice night shifts and this. The heavy guns of female fashion. Classic black stilettos, good quality stockings and a dress to kill. 

Well, she was out of options. Might as well try to convince Bane he should get her some new stuff for the reminder of winter if he wanted her working instead of bedridden. Although, she shouldn't use that particular word, she thought with a smirk. The fucker might find that an alluring prospect. 

Ten minutes later she was ready to go. There weren’t many things she could do makeup wise, and she didn't bother too much - it would all be smudged by the end of the night. Some mascara and black kohl around her eyes were enough to keep her steady gaze striking. 

She winked at few men when James led her through the courtyard, his usual brisk pace impeded by Helena's choice of footwear. Her steps were slow and measured, careful on cobbled expanse of ground between her part of the compound and Bane’s turret. The shoes would probably be ruined anyway, but the glimmer of irritation in stoic guard was her reward for this small sacrifice. He glared at mercenaries catcalling Helena, sending a mute warning and a reminder with sparse turning of his head. Bane's plaything - out of the question, out of their respective beds. 

When they arrived, he gave her the customary once over; she once thought it was to see if she was okay, but now she knew it had more to do with him checking if the delivery, so to speak, was conducted without a hitch.

She twirled around under his inspection. 

“You think he'll hate it?”

Again, no response. Unless she'd want to count his derisive snort as one.

Opening the door took some effort, so she waited for James to pry the heavy wing away from the frame. She stepped in and helped closing massive plane of wood, leaning on it with her back. Smiled when she spotted Bane.

“Hi,” she said, eyeing him appreciatively. 

He replied with a simple hello. Fingers of his right hand traced absentmindedly on inner sewing of his combat slacks, luring Helena's gaze to the vee of his legs. She licked her lips.

“I was thinking about some things we haven't done yet,” he said. Watched her watching him, calculating her reactions. 

“Have you now?” She grinned wolfishly; strolling around the sofa where he sat sprawled comfortably. Eyes never leaving his form. “Tell me more.”

Bane arched one brow, speculative. She challenged him with an arrogant tilt of her head before she stepped behind his back. He visibly tensed… but his palm never stopped moving.

“I have a fancy for your lips today,” he said. 

She stopped to his left, just a step away from appearing in his peripheral. 

“Hmm, my lips, you say.” She let the sentence trail off expectantly while she turned around, trailing her fingers delicately over the back of his neck.

Bane watched as she moved to her previous spot, leaning on the door. His hand openly rubbed on his crotch. 

“That is a nice dress,” he said conversationally.

Helena smoothed her palm from waist to hip, and back up resting it just at the top of her leg. 

“Yeah, I’ve run out of clothes and decided to assemble an outfit to show you how I need some new ones.”

“Indeed?”

“Well, just look how thin this fabric is.” She gestured to her chest, where lace of her bra peeked seductively in places. “No protection against cold weather.”

“I will keep you warm,” he supplied.

“And how will you accomplish that from this distance?” 

“I would have to conduct an experiment, but I have an inkling what could get you hot.”

She fought to stay sombre, but the absurdity of the exchange made her grin uncontrollably. 

“I have a better idea,” she said, biting her lip when he moved his palm up to slide under his shirt. “You do what I tell you and then, maybe, I will let you touch and see for yourself how thin this dress really is.” 

Bane’s eyes gleamed with mirth. 

“Tell me what to do then,” he challenged.

“You're on a good track.”

“I need specific instructions.” 

Movement of his fingers was visible in the rippling beneath the shirt whenever his knuckles flexed; he was tracing some shallow scars, sliding along ridges of muscles. He relaxed against the back of the sofa, head cocked to the side a bit, an amused glint in his eyes.

What would he look without the mask, with the obvious smile out in the open?

“I'm at your command,” he reminded. 

It was so easy to believe him. The illusion of power was enough to have her stand a bit taller, keep her back tiny bit more straight. 

“I want you to stroke your neck.” 

His eyebrows raised a fraction, but he complied almost immediately, free hand grazing his shirt on its way up to its mark. With just his fingertips he scaled the column of his neck, clavicle, jugular to chin, then back down under the hem of the mask, to the side and back. Muscles in his arm shifted, hinting at play of fingers pressing harder than before. He sighed, relaxing further into his own ministrations. 

“Oh, you do like that,” Helena said, voice sounding dirty even to her. “I'd rather do this myself, but with the way you are now, so deliciously cooperative, I think I'll watch you play some more.”

Husky, sultry, and just a little bit vulgar. Just enough to show she really was affected by the sight of him. He knew anyway. It showed in the way he eventually straightened both arms to brace them comfortably on the backrest. 

“Naughty, Mrs Wolf. Who would have thought?”

“You would. Now, take off that shirt.”

Practiced and swift, he pulled the collar over his head, making a show of raising his hands and throwing the garment behind himself. 

The sight made her gasp.

“Stay like this.” 

Another amused look came her way, but he complied yet again, resting with arms bent back over the backrest. The position highlighted every centimetre of his sculpted body, from massive biceps framing his masked face, through thick neck, down powerful planes of chest and stomach, to the unmistakable swollen part of his groin. 

She gulped down a moan, but let herself exhale. It came out shaky and Bane chuckled openly. He'd let her trace every rippling muscle with her tongue, feel the vibrations of his voice with her lips sliding over his sternum, press on skin hardened with scars. She wanted all of it, and more. For now, she was set on feasting her eyes, for once able to appreciate every part of the man who could reduce her to a panting animal in a matter of minutes. 

What was his secret? 

His body was formidable. Attractive to her, although there was no question that many people would find him overbearing to say the least. The mask and filtered voice added undeniable mystery; the danger a spice she couldn't shake. Nor would she ever think of having a thing, whatever it was, with him without it. Bane was a mercenary, kidnapped her and held hostage against her will. Still, his domination, calm and quiet most of the time, was what brought out the primal and primitive feelings in her. A masculine figure to cling to, both literally and metaphorically, a prime example of an alpha male, a protector, a warrior.

Yet, there was still a side of something else she was drawn to, something much more elusive than simple physical characteristics. More than what he did; rather what he was, deep at his core, as a human being.

But that were thoughts for later, she chided herself, licking at dried lips, tracing a shadow of longing in his eyes. Heels clicked as she started circling him again, keeping appreciative stare up as long as possible. 

He craned his neck to watch her stand behind him. His palms were hanging loosely, right at her hips, separated merely with two centimetres of air. If he flexed his arms, he could grab her; force her underneath him, or however else he'd like to have her. Yet, he chose to wait at her next command. The game they played was too nice to break, at least for now.

He bid his time, confidently measuring her with hooded eyes, sure he would get what he wanted in the end. It was frustrating, how he could be sure of it, and she was left with guessing the boundaries, looking for hints, piecing up information from scraps. This meagre amount of control he gave her now was liberating. She couldn't forget however, it was granted, not earned.

She frowned, tracing veins on his biceps, ticklishly light touch resulting in an uncharacteristic squirm from Bane. 

“Do not move,” she said, surprising even herself with the steady and low threat in her tone. Automatically, she lifted her hand, stilling just far enough to show she would continue… if he listened.

He stilled, at first tensing up in reflexive response to the challenge to his authority. Then he was back to relaxing, curious and interested in what she had in store.

That was the question, what did she want him to do?

“I want to watch you touch yourself.”

He chuckled.

“Where?”

“Surprise me.”

Implication behind her words was more than obvious. He looked like he was ready to comply. 

He didn't. With a grunt he lowered his arms, flexing them out to get the circulation working properly again, popping joints with a satisfied sigh. Then he resumed the action she appreciated when she entered, lazy stroking at his thighs, around the juncture of his legs.

A smile he couldn't see bloomed on her lips. She slid her knuckles along his shoulders, enjoying the way he bowed his head slightly to give her better access to his neck when she neared it.

“Very good,” she praised. “But you're actually touching your pants.” Her nails bit in tender places on either side at the base of his neck, making him snap his head straight. 

An angry vocalization from behind the mask should have frightened her. 

“Let me show you what I had in mind.” She faked the exasperation in her voice, never stopping her palms sliding over his skin. Once she started it was addictive, the warmth of his body transferring to hers, gathering at the pit of her stomach. Her fingers sneaked up, fleetingly caressing patches of his head between straps of the mask, skin over his skull littered with small scars. One step and she pressed him to her stomach, slightly to the side, and bent down, sliding left hand surely to the hem of his slacks, keeping one palm pressing his head to her body. 

It was unnecessary, he crammed in the hollow at her hip himself, turning his face away to the side. 

She stopped, fingers teasing him just beneath the fabric, at the border of shoving her hand right down to grab his cock. Following movement of his mask she peeked where he seemed to be looking, curious of the source of his distraction. She froze completely hearing a whine escape his throat.

He was looking at their image on the glass.

“I could smell you if not for that mask. I could turn around and lick into your pussy, while fisting my cock, so you could watch me come as you orgasm.” He sounded like a different man, full of yearning, not really sure if all was as he thought.  Eyes glued to the reflection on the window he kept talking, quietly as if to himself. “I could just stand up and fuck you bent like this. Do you have any idea how your ass looks when you're on your tiptoes, presenting your wet pussy? Fuck. I could do all that.”

She knew he wouldn't let her see his face; the want made him confess his longing, but from saying what he craved and getting it were obstacles she couldn't see him just brushing away. No matter how hard she wished it to be otherwise, he was her captor. Needed to stay alert around her, not to give away more information than he could safely part with. 

The line between what was safe was too blurred as it was.

Bitter resentment showed in tightening of her throat and she swallowed it down, determined to use Bane however he'd let her, as long as he was inclined to stay compliant under her command. 

“Perhaps you could, but none of that was my instruction.”  

She forced him to turn back to face her, retracting her palm with an unkind scratch up his chest. 

He hissed, panting, following her eyes with his when she stood back up. 

“Open your pants.”

She didn't watch him when she went back to the spot by the door. But she could hear, and it was enough to know he listened.

“Slide them down your thighs.” Mild order was given when she pressed her back to the door, a mirror of Bane’s usual position, complete with hands folded under her breasts. He didn't have to know she did it to manage excited trembling that broke as soon as he touched his zipper. 

He probably realized anyway.

“That's enough,” she instructed, satisfied with the way bare skin peeked between thick fabric pooling over his knees and hem of his boxers. “Slide your hand over your cock now.”

He teased, two fingers marking an outline of his flesh standing proudly under thin cover. Not leaving much to imagination, even if she hadn't seen him before. Helena gulped down saliva and he gave her a knowing look, no doubt smirking behind the grille of his mask. 

“Take it out.” 

“So rude,” he murmured. She didn't care what he thought; her eyes were glued to his hands. Left one stretched the hem down, while he raised his hips and pulled out his stiff penis out. Almost involuntarily, he stroked, once, then twice.

Then, she snapped out of it.

“Stop it,“ she said. “I didn't tell you can touch yourself just yet.” 

“My apologies.”

He mocked, even though his stomach was tensing in regular intervals, his breath pausing slightly before exhales. 

“You enjoy this way too much.”

She stepped closer, enjoying how he stilled, how his hips shifted slightly closer, knees spread minutely wider apart. Watching him swallowing always did something to her, perhaps because she just knew he must have been biting his lips in anticipation. Out of her reach. Always promising he could use them in ways that guaranteed her pleasure.

Three steps and she was looking down at him, palms resting comfortably on her hips.

“Now you may continue,“ she said. 

He frowned slightly and turned his head to the side, but his right palm unerringly grasped at his cock, stroking roughly. The movement was practiced and careless, natural and fluid. He stuttered a bit when she carefully lowered to her knees, helping herself stabilize with one palm braced on his thigh. 

He tried to push his underwear and pants lower, to get more space, but she tsked at him impatiently.

“You’re really bad at keeping to orders given,” she complained. “Hands off.”

He stopped but didn't move otherwise, weighing his options no doubt. What kept him here, listening to her commands anyway? 

Wolfish smile crept on her face once again when he decided to indulge her and rest his arms on each side of him. 

“You’re treading on thin ice,“ he warned. But he gulped again, shamelessly eyeing her cleavage now that he was the one looking down at her. 

“What is life without some danger to spice things up?”

His low chuckle pleased her, especially when it formed into a moan at the end when her palms slid up his thighs. Fingers hooked at the hem and she yanked his boxers down.

He tensed his back to help her with rising of his hips but she was having none of it.

“Uh huh,” she frowned shaking her head.

Bane narrowed his eyes.

“Careful,” he growled.

“Obey, and you will be rewarded,” she reminded with a smack of her lips.

He huffed a quick scoff, but held still.

“Wise decision.”

Her palms went back to his thighs, applying enough pressure to make him flex his muscles. His cock bobbed with the movement, swayed slightly closer to her lips. Humid breath travelled teasingly over the tip. He smelled clean and earthy, an undertone of familiar soap over his tangy natural fragrance. She left chaste kisses on each side of his cock, teasing with warmth coming and going. Quick lick at the glands left him straining for more.

Helena stroked her palms over his hips, thumbs dipping into delicate valleys between his stomach and legs. Involuntary shudder and a gasp rewarded her attention. She smiled and sucked in the head, moving her hands higher to feel the muscles working his abdomen in tight little snaps. She let him dictate the pace, loosely holding him on her tongue, too fleetingly to bring release, but pleasurable all the same.

“Suck me,” he groaned.

Looking up she opened her mouth a bit wider and watched his reaction as her tongue stroked over the thick vein at the underside. Smiled when his throat worked visibly with a gulp. A wheezing, shaky breath left the mask.

A second after, she pressed her nails viciously to his skin, sliding them down his hard stomach. His hips jutted out in reaction, visible shiver rocked his body and she used the movement to gulp his cock down as far as he could.

His hands flew to hold her hair, to keep her closer. Bane moaned as he watched her work him sloppily and eagerly to release, doubling over her with a desperately whispered ‘fuck’ on his lips.

She looked up at him again, patted on his wrists to let go.

He did, leaning back on the sofa with some effort.

“Tsk, tsk,” she mocked licking her lips.

Bane still panted like a runner on the finish line. His palms fisted by his sides.

“Finish it,” he ordered.

Helena straightened, smoothing the dress down her hips. Heels clicked away on hardwood floor when she moved slowly behind him one more time.

Bane sighed, frustrated, and looked back. She stood by the entrance to the bedroom.

“Come on, big guy.” Ink stained fingers played delicately over lace at her neckline. “Why don't you finish it yourself?”

Scoffing, he shook his head.

“Careful, or you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he cautioned. His boots thudded to the floor, discarded with simple minded eagerness. 

“The idea here was to get me hot,” she reminded.

Bane stretched on the sofa, sliding off his slacks. He stood up with a slight grunt. “And did we?”

The way she watched him stalk closer naked, never taking her eyes off hand stroking his cock lazily, didn’t leave any room for doubt on the matter. Still, he angled his head to the side, unoccupied hand bracing on the doorframe over their heads, crowding her in the entrance. 

“Tell me,” he whispered.

It was her turn to pant and gulp down her desire. She watched as his arm moved rhythmically up and down, almost unconsciously whining low in her throat.

“You want me to finish like this?” he asked, a salacious, mocking growl. Muscles in his abdomen tensed sporadically with little involuntary tremors of pleasure. 

Helena finally looked up.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Bane snarled, the confirmation making him feral. He grabbed the fabric of the dress at the neckline and yanked, tearing it in half like it was nothing more than a sheer curtain. The movement was so violent Helena stumbled few steps back, into the room, laughing over his enthusiasm. He followed, pushing her lightly to sit on the bed. 

“You were right, it’s not enough to shield you against anything,” he taunted, throwing blue fabric to the floor after one last appreciative glance. Kneeling over her, he palmed her breasts through the lacy bra. “This seems as feeble.”

Fingers hooked between the cups and with a quick flex they were disconnected.

Helena giggled again, incredulous. His strength was clearly visible in his imposing posture, but she tended to forget about it. 

Her back graciously slid down on the mattress.

Bane slid his hands to her hips. Thumb grazed her clit, forcing out a moan.

“You’re hot alright,” Bane noticed. He pressed his knuckles to her opening, testing the moisture seeping through the lace. “And wet.”

“I’m always wet for you,” she moaned.

That was it. He knew she wanted him, and he wanted her right back with a simplicity nothing else in his life held before. Quick efficient movements of his hands had her turned on her belly, giggling into the sheets as he kneeled behind her hips. He pressed his cock between her thighs, teasing himself with her soft skin on the sides and rough graze of damp lace on the top. One hand held her hair, soft strands caressing the sensitive skin between his fingers.

Helena closed her eyes, relishing the controlled aggression, slight yanking of her tresses and near painful grip on her hip. Coiled power, ready to be released at any given moment, but never unrestrained. Even mere thought of how he dominated her from his position behind aroused her. To think he let her order him around was intoxicating. 

“Bane,” she whispered. She knew he liked hearing his name in this breathy, needy version. He liked being wanted like this.

“Yes?”

She giggled again.

“Will you fuck me now, please?”

Hands caressing her hips, he pretended to mull over the thought.

“I seem to have an obstacle still,” he noticed.

Thumbs hooked behind the lace, stretching the panties away from her hips.

“You don’t have to rip them, you know,” she said, voice steady and serious all of a sudden.

“But I like to.”

She sighed as the fabric gave under the stretch, letting him slide it over the exposed skin.

Without any more teasing, he guided his cock inside, the gentle popping sound the only accompaniment to their relieved sighs.

“I fucking love this moment,” she moaned, forehead buried into the sheets, voice muffled.

Bane didn’t respond. He was close from the play before, and the wet grip she had over him fuddled his brain. His hips worked in a steady thorough pace, hands hooked at Helena’s waist to keep bringing her closer. Over and over in a hypnotic daze.

He listened to her muffled gasps, trying not to obsess over the way she clutched the sheets in her teeth, and clawed at them with her twitching fingers.

Nearly there.

He had to close his eyes not to look at his cock sliding into her cunt, but it only heightened his pleasure.

“More,” she moaned.

He stilled with a chuckle, exasperated.

“How about you work for it yourself, hmm?” 

He let go, straightened and widened his knees a bit to brace. Watched how muscles in Helena's back shifted as she realized he wasn't joking, and she really would have to keep moving herself to get what she wanted.

Craning her head back she shot him a vengeful look. 

“Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?”

He frowned and smacked her ass lightly.  

“Worry about yourself,” he warned. 

It was rich coming from him, but she was embarrassingly close to coming when he slapped her, unable to hold back a moan. Her hips flexed and then the movement back seemed like the only natural thing to do, and then a repeat, and again. Biting her lips she moved to and from, impaling herself over and over, relishing every stroke and bump of their groins.

Bane held onto her sides, shifting his hands with her but never guiding her movements. She heard him groan, then his hips flexed, pushing towards her when she was about to move away. He gripped her too strongly, shoved too fast and too deep, and she complained with a strangled yelp. 

He was trembling, tensed and doubled down over her, his cock buried to the hilt but still seemingly grinding further. 

With a sigh he let go after a minute, dazed with release, panting as he watched her turn on her back before him. He rested sitting on his haunches, both hands braced on either knee. She nudged his chest with her foot, making him grab it to stop her, his thumb stroking her ankle. 

“I'm not finished. “ She complained. 

“No, you're not.”

Pursing her lips she gave him a steady stare. 

“I don't want your fingers.” 

“I don't care what you want. You will get what I give you and be content with it.”

She frowned, but couldn't fight him when he pushed two digits inside her, stroking her clit with the thumb of his other hand. His palm was so big he covered her whole lower abdomen, and used tensing muscles to guide his movements. Her body never lied to him. 

She tensed nervously, tried to move his palm away.

“I don't want it,” she tried feebly.

“What? You don't want to come?” He snarled. He covered her with his body, pressing a fraction too hard, holding her by the jaw and never stopping the in-and-out movement of his fingers in her cunt. “You don't want the pleasure? Don't want the completion?”

She gasped, aware of the thin line she was walking now between angering him and exciting; it seemed to always be there, but now the path was narrowed impossibly and she had to fall on one side. It was her decision which one would it be.

“I don't want to come with your fingers, I want to come with your cock.” Looking him straight in the eye she left her mouth agape, then slowly licked along the upper lip. He hovered down so close she felt huffs of breath escaping his mask. Her hips swayed unerringly with his shoving hand, taking him in even as she complained about it. He was careless, hitting her clit with the flat of his palm on every stroke, threatening to get her to come even despite her protests. He knew exactly what she liked, what got her going. Even this little exchange was suspiciously close to debate; were he really serious in his threats, she wouldn't have a say on the matter. But he watched her lick her lips, his cock hardening slowly, pressed to the soft underside of her thigh. 

“I want you to lick your come off my cunt and then fuck me again, and this time I want to watch you shudder as you finish.”

He whined, bringing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. His Achilles heel was so obvious, but it pained Helena to exploit it. 

Then again, it pained her more to keep him doing what he did now.

“Do you imagine how would I taste? How it would feel on your tongue, my pussy with your come? How I'd moan and beg, holding on to you, coming over and over while you'd lick me?“

He was fully hard again, pressing uncomfortably on the inside of her hip, hot and still slightly slick from their previous coupling. A moan, long and drawn, turning into a feral growl rumbled in his chest, building as it went into full-fledged bark. 

The hand that was holding her jaw moved a long time ago to brace him on the bed. He used it to shift now, exchanging his fingers in her pussy with his cock, and then he smeared the wetness on her lips.

“I can smell me. And you.” she whispered into his mask. 

He closed his eyes again, caged her, both arms braced at the elbows on either side of her head. His forehead never lifted up, and she was overwhelmed with the feeling of Bane surrounding her everywhere, like a living cage. He was just that, she realized, holding on to rigid biceps, hooking her legs at his flexing sides. He was the force keeping her in check, making her idle with content, complacent, passive. She never wanted to be away from the possibility of sharing time and space with him, be it working, fucking or doing nothing at all. 

She felt drugged, the pleasure drawing out in strings of movement, passionate and insistent, and unhurried all at the same time. Her moans came continuously, rising in volume when Bane's hips ground into hers, morphing into breathy gasps with stronger strikes. Breaths short and shallow, she was dizzy, almost as if there was not enough air, as if he was taking it from her along with everything else. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. 

She gulped, surprised with how hoarse he sounded, how affected. 

He leaned back a bit, shifting to the side, changing angle of his thrusts. Bracing on left arm he took her hand, clawing a minute before on his bicep, and pressed it wordlessly to the grille of his mask. 

She understood. Fingers stroked over the metal tubing, then slid down to his neck and further to hang on his shoulder. 

Bane never let his eyes fall from her face, holding her gaze, watching her when he plunged inside her, slowly now, thoroughly.  

It was too much. Everything felt so intense, every touch too sharp, every breath too heavy, every spasm too sudden. Helena couldn't suppress her moans, making shallow scratches all over Bane's shoulder and arm, at the brink of release. She was desperate to go, completely at his mercy. 

“Please,” she begged, unable to formulate more than one word. “Please.“

Then it happened, with a pained sigh above her, and a tender hand pressed to her back. He held her close, hips grinding even through a jolt of her body, encouraging her with short bursts of words huffed out through gritted teeth, enduring in a position that was best for her, for as long as she needed, his own comfort and pleasure forgotten in the face of her orgasm. Her neck craned back with force of her release, an uncontrolled spasm, tearing out a screamlike whine from her lips.

Bane waited to see if she was okay. 

Heart hammering like it wanted to break out of her chest she settled, finally, unclenching fingers from the death grip on his body. Nails broken and red rimmed with blood, fingers leaving brownish smudges on his skin, she patted him on the chest, nodding with a smile. 

He lingered a moment, judging for himself her reactions. But even Bane had his limits, so he gave up and shuffled into more comfortable position, restarting his thrusting. Still mindful of her reactions, she was sure of it.

Restraint. Control. That was at the root of her attraction, her desire. Deep settled yearning to be overpowered and awed, but above all - wanted. He knew and it showed in all the tender gestures he let her see, the little indulgences. And that was his secret, the gentleness that showed in most unexpected ways, kindness that had to be buried deep inside him, never planted there but an autonomous part of the man, despite what he had become through storms in his life. 

She saw it now, when he kept himself in check by a thread, building up to that place where he could relinquish all control. 

He let her see him come apart, shuddering and moaning, just as she asked. 

After, he stayed on top of her, panting in slowing increments with head buried in sheets beside her, shivering under the caress of her fingers tracing haphazard patterns on his flanks.

“See, listen to me and be rewarded,” she mumbled, glazing over the precipice of sleep. Discomfort kept her awake, the abundance of moisture pooling between her thighs, sweat cooling on exposed parts of her skin, overheating where Bane touched. 

The mercenary chuckled and rolled over, stretching with what looked like a yawn. If he even could do that with his mask on.

“Thank you for the use of your nethers,“ he chuckled.

“Mhm, anytime.” It came out without thinking on her part. So true, though. He did have her whenever he wanted. 

She frowned at nothing in particular. 

“I'm getting itchy. Would you bring me under the shower?”

“Walk.”

“I'm not sure I still can.”

She yelped when he picked her up, one hand under her knees, other braced around her shoulder. Shielding her with his body, he started the water. Even the mist of droplets bouncing off his frame made her shiver, the actual spray had to be icy. He turned her towards it only when it warmed enough to steam the glass pane separating them from the rest of the world. 

“Perfect,” she purred. The water was exquisite on her overworked back, soothingly spreading her hair down. Bane held her up without a word, an indecipherable quality in his eyes. Was it satisfaction?  

Perhaps.

She didn't linger on it, deciding to focus on getting the feeling back in her legs. 

She would think about it tomorrow. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment?  
> Pleeeeeease!
> 
> I'm getting back to "Sculptor" after this; the Easter brunch scene is mostly done, needs some work but it's basically there. There will be a return of our lovely mercenary Bane; at least some part of him. Hope this plot-important but a bit OOC Emotional!Bane didn't tire you out.


End file.
